Undertale: Warm Boot
by ArhenaRuetto
Summary: There really wasn't any other way to put it. After Flowey's onslaught, the thought of resetting was too much to handle. They couldn't chance it all over again. Never again. - Post-Neutral. NB-Frisk. Work in Progress, not sure where it's going yet.
1. Chapter 1

There was very little evidence left that anything remarkable had taken place in the hall beyond the throne room, not after ten years of silence. The barrier remained, its pulsing waves of light coursing for miles until one couldn't tell what they were looking at anymore. The rolling light and shadow was hypnotic, and Frisk often imagined the late King standing before it, entranced by its beauty, trapped by its power.

Much like how the young human now stood in front of it, a small bouquet of buttercups in their hands. Several the flowers had been painted different colors, an artistic testament to the six souls that had disappeared along with the King's death. Nobody knew what happened after that, nobody but the young human standing before the shifting, changing lights of the barrier.

Frisk remembered. Every so often, typically in the quiet of night, they could hear the sound of ringing, metallic laughter, the boom of explosives, the heat of flames, the stinging, tearing feel of thorny vines grasping and pulling at flesh and cloth. It kept them awake, afraid to sleep, afraid to move, afraid to turn on the lights for fear of finding the windows and walls covered in pulsating, fleshy vines.

 _I just can't understand._

Frisk couldn't understand either. The young human couldn't wrap their head around the idea that anyone could be so shaded by misery and hate that they would inflict such pain on others. The eternity in this very limited world that this simple flower must have endured - was that truly where immortality was destined to lead someone? The inability to die, the inability to love, to feel anything other than raw anger and hatred; was there any overcoming that?

Frisk wasn't sure, and it might have been why the young human, for the past ten years, refused to reset the parameters of the world. They knew they were fully capable of doing so. All it would have taken was a bit of determination, just a fragment of the dormant power they knew rest within their brilliantly crimson soul.

Brushing their fingers against the flower, Frisk knelt down and placed the small bouquet of buttercups on the floor, watching the lights play on their petals as the magic of the barrier waved across itself in varying shades of black and white. The energy of the room was still as palpable as the day they had first confronted Asgore within it. It was almost as bright as the light of the sun, but without the lovely warmth that Frisk had always relished as it warmed their face.

"Here again, my child?"

Toriel's soft, familiar voice called across the few yards that separated them, its tone curious and perhaps a bit chiding, echoing as it fled down the hallway, carried away by the magic of the barrier. Frisk stood and turned, their expression a soft, rueful smile. Stepping closer to the Underground's only remaining monarch, Frisk still had yet to encompass her regal height. The boss monster had not changed much, her attire still conformed to robes in white and purple, the Delta rune across her chest a reminder of a prophecy she still very much hoped and believed in. The only other visible difference was the small crown that graced her horned head.

With all the familiarity in the world, she embraced Frisk as they stepped forward, the young human sinking into the hold. They'd had this exchange before, many times over the years.

"You shouldn't visit Asgore's sins upon your conscience, young one." Toriel said, smoothing a paw over Frisk's dark hair. There was almost nothing in the world more comforting and condemning than those words. The queen had ultimately no concept of the true weight on Frisk's shoulders, even as she struggled with the mountainous task of keeping her people imbued with hope for their future.

It was better that way.

"I don't," The human spoke, their voice quiet, tempered with contemplative tones.

"Then why do you return?"

"For his memory, for the memory of the souls that disappeared."

 _For the memory of what I endured._

Toriel gave a conceding nod. The conversation was almost always the same, and this time around, she didn't seem inclined to pursue it much further. The young human had grown from a wide-eyed, impressionable child to an adult, with a bit more sense of reality. Overall, she trusted their judgement, and her own nurturing attitude had to be turned toward her people, and not on one sole human.

Releasing Frisk, Toriel turned to leave.

"Don't linger too long, my child. It isn't healthy to dwell on the past, not when there's so much work to be done for the future."

She brought a filed, dull claw to the human's chin, tipping their head upwards a bit with a small, motherly smile. Frisk mirrored the expression, if only for her sake. Upon her exit, Frisk gave the barrier another wistful, torn expression. They wanted to sprint at it, as though if they hit whatever might be at the end hard enough, it would shatter and release them all from this prison. But they were under no delusion of what would actually happen. The sun would shine, the birds would sing, but only for them. There would be no gathering of freed monster-kind to share in its beauty.

Frisk couldn't do that to them. They deserved so much more.

 _And yet, you won't revert the world. You won't do what it really takes to give them all what they deserve, will you?_

Frisk had no answer, turning their back to the barrier and quietly leaving the bouquet of colorful buttercups to wither and die in the shifting twilight.

* * *

"Under no circumstances are you to open this door until exactly the 25th. Do you understand?"

"WHY? WHAT IS BEYOND THE MYSTERY DOOR THAT IS SO GLORIOUS THAT MY EYE-SOCKETS ARE NOT WORTHY OF BEHOLDING ITS MAJESTY?"

"It's not anything quite so dramatic as that, Pap. It's just a surprise. You don't want to ruin the surprise, do you?" Frisk chided, a quiet smile playing on their features. The click of the lock in place was met with a satisfied nod and they pulled the key from the doorknob of the shed, pocketing it a moment later with a swift turn toward the gangly skeleton that stood, watching over their shoulder.

"OF COURSE I WOULD NOT WISH TO RUIN A SURPRISE." Those eye sockets, typically large, demanding and utterly sincere, narrowed slightly to a shrewd, shifty expression. Somehow, even when whispering, his voice seemed to boom across the front yard.

"HOWEVER, I AM QUITE CONVINCED I CAN KEEP THIS SECRET AND NOT RUIN IT."

Frisk laughed, shaking their head. "The surprise is for you, too. I'm not going to let you ruin it for yourself. It's only a few more days to wait, anyway." Reaching forward, Frisk quietly adjusted the slightly off-center red scarf across Papyrus' shoulders. With a vocal inflection that mimicked the "battle-bodied" skeleton, Frisk spoke again.

"You should learn a privacy."

Papyrus gave an exasperated gesture. "BUT IT IS MY SHED!"

"Not for the next three days, its not. Just pretend like you're loaning it to me, and you are duty bound not to trespass until the lease is expired."

"WHAT IS A LEASE?"

Frisk gave Papyrus a soft pat on the shoulder, stepping down from the door to the shed and shoving their hands in their pockets with small shiver. Even dressed head to toe in warm winter clothing, there was something about Snowdin that kept the human chilled to the bone when outside. Most everyone else seemed to have a very easy time of it, many monsters that lived in the small, snowy town were either completely furred or had some odd resistance. It wasn't a bitter cold, but Frisk's longing for the sun's warmth was particularly poignant when trudging through the Underground's snowy province.

"It's when you agree to let someone have something for a certain amount of time, and then you get it back from them when the time is over." ... or something like that. The few steps from the shed to the house always seemed longer than they actually were, but that was a feeling Frisk was used to. The cold made time slow, at least as far as their perception of it went. Opening the front door, Frisk knocked their shoes against the outside threshold, bits of slush and snow falling from their soles.

"I SEE. BUT WHY WOULD I AGREE TO 'LEASE' YOU MY SHED?"

"Because you'll get something out of it once the lease is over."

"can the two of you puh- _lease_ get inside and close the door?"

Stepping out of the doorway and letting Papyrus follow in after, Frisk closed the front door and slipped their shoes off, pulling the blue and purple scarf from around their neck.

"WHY DO YOU NOT JUST HIDE THE SURPRISE IN YOUR ROOM, FRISK?"

"Because my room doesn't have a lock on it, and I don't trust you not to snoop when you're curious enough."

Papyrus gave a scandalous gasp, a gloved hand pressed to his skeletal chest. With a faint little sigh, he collapsed against the living room couch, his skull landing right in his brother's lap. "HOW PREPOSTEROUS. THIS IS AN AFRONT TO MY HONOR."

"wow. you should try out for Met's next show with all that dramatic acting." The older brother joked, patting Papyrus on the head. The younger skeleton's shocked expression turned to bemusement at the comparison. The couch wheezed in protest as Papyrus shifted and sat up in it, hands folded in his lap.

"I SUPPOSE I WILL HAVE TO SURRENDER MYSELF TO WAITING. BUT ONLY THREE DAYS? NO LONGER THAN THAT?"

Frisk nodded, reaching to hang the coat up on just-out-of-reach pegs on the wall. With a small stretch, the coat was hung and the scarf along with it.

"Yes, just three days, and then you can be re- _leased_ from this torment."

Papyrus' expression went flat. "ONLY TO RETURN TO MY REGULARLY SCHEDULED TORMENT. LIFE NEVER CHANGES. I AM GOING TO UNDYNE'S TO FRUITLESSLY COMPLAIN ABOUT THIS." The gangly fellow stood up from the couch, promptly sweeping past Frisk (but not without fondly patting the human on the head), and out the front door with no extra fanfare.

Frisk gave Sans a small finger wave. The human's cheeks and nose were red from the cold, but the familiar feeling of growing warmth had always been a fond sensation, even as Frisk's ears began to prickle with the slow rise in temperature. The small addition of a fire grate with a bit of enchanted flame helped keep the cold away. The brothers hadn't been opposed to its installation, and Toriel had helped with the donation of fire magic that she'd assured would continue to burn into the next century.

"how'd your trip go?"

"Well enough, no incidents. Said hello to Toriel for you. She said she's really sorry she's been so busy, but there's really no working around it. The excavation work has been 'a headache and a half', or so she put it. But she's really determined to try and make more space for everyone."

Sans gave a small shrug, but even the small bit of insight that Frisk had garnered over the years about the stout skeleton told them that Sans cared more than he played it off, even if it was just a little bit more.

"she'll get around to visiting. maybe one day i'll just show up and won't go away until we've exchanged some jokes."

"I think to some degree, she'd appreciate not being given any say in the matter. With the weight of a monarch's responsibility, it must be a nice bit of relief when someone decides something for you for a change."

"you sound like you understand that a bit intimately." Sans remarked. Gaze falling on the skeleton, Frisk found Sans giving them a quizzical, expectant look. There was an oddly tense moment of silence and the young human had no idea how to respond. It was a critical bit of perception, and one that nobody else had mentioned noticing before. Sans' raised a bony-brow.

"it's just an observation, kid. i'm not saying i'm about to start making all your decisions for you or anything."

 _Not that that's something anyone could actually do. Not to_ ** _you._**

A quick blink of their eyes and Frisk's expression cleared to an easy smile, shaking their head with a slowly relaxing stance. "It's alright. I guess sometimes we don't realize that our insights into other people can often be applied to ourselves sometimes. Have I been noticeably stressed?"

Sans shrugged, lazy smile revealing those rows of perfectly aligned teeth. "here and there, but i figure if you want help with anything, you'd find someone to help you."

Frisk returned the shrug and crossed the living room to the small door near the stairs. In their years spent in the Underground, Frisk had lived with various friends, and after several years of sleeping on the brothers' couch, they'd finally surprised Frisk with a room of the human's own. It was small, but Frisk didn't need much space. Frisk had just set a hand on the doorknob when Sans spoke again.

"that being said, uh - ... if you ever do need help with anything, i'm just upstairs. or out here. or at Grillby's." He had a friendly enough smile on his face, one shoulder lifted in a half shrug, like the offer wasn't at all anything he couldn't handle. Frisk couldn't help but smile back. The human doubted that Sans really understood what was going through their's head, but the thought was still genuine, and appreciated.

"Thanks, Sans. I'll be sure to let you know if anything comes up."

"fair enough, sport."

A final nod was given before Frisk turned the doorknob and slipped into their room, closing the door quietly behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

The bedroom was, as mentioned, on the small side. The skeleton brothers' house itself wasn't very large, and was somewhat old. Knocking down too many walls could have resulted in a collapse, so for the sake of the structural integrity of the building, Frisk's room wasn't much more than few dozen square feet. Sans had been ... almost uncharacteristically specific about it, but the size wasn't so bothersome. It made things cozy, easy to keep up with, easy to keep clean, and easy to keep down on clutter and hoarding. Every now and then, the young human would sift through things for donations. Old clothes, toys, knick knacks, unless they had specific sentimental value, wound up in a box at least once every year, sent off to whoever else might use them better.

The bed had long since become just a bit too small, and that was the only concern. Frisk's gangly legs often slipped over the side, followed by the rest of their slight frame in the midst of the night, especially when sleeping was difficult.

The digital clock on the nightstand read only a few minutes left to six in the evening, but Frisk had gone from Snowdin to the Castle and back again in one day, and the early hour had nothing on their sense of weariness. Kicking off their shoes and tucking them near the foot of the bed, Frisk moved to the tiny closet space, pulling the shirt up and over their shoulders. The mirror on the opposite wall reflected the human's back, littered with a handful of scars. Not a lot of monsters had taken the King's death as understandably the Queen had.

And not every conflict was always solved with mercy.

A far looser, comfortable shirt was pulled over the young human's torso, jeans removed in favor of comfortably large boxers instead. Passing by the small shelf that housed a number of filled journals and a few preemptively bought new ones, Frisk pulled the very first from its spot before settling (mostly comfortably) onto their bed. It creaked with the effort of old screws and faded wood holding themselves together, the mattress sinking slightly under the human's familiar weight.

Flipping listlessly through pages of the journal in spite of the fact that they knew exactly what page they were looking for, Frisk poked through book with little to no real aim. Doodles consisting largely of stick figures with only enough detail in the faces to tell each one apart were stuffed between lines of writing that were very appropriately styled in a child's hand. They couldn't have been older than eight.

 _"I think it's been seven days. Couldn't take his soul. Even after he tried to take mine._

 _Everyone knows and Tori says it will take a long time for them to all come to_ _ax-_ _accept it._

 _I took_ _they_ _\- their hopes and dreams."_

Frisk pursed a set of dark-toned lips and flipped a few pages further, trying to shove the memory of those first few weeks from their head. Somehow they had been robbed of the natural, innate degeneration of memory that came with time and age, and while many other humans being might have celebrated the ability to recall with perfect clarity every memory from their early childhood, Frisk felt them like a weight on their shoulders. They felt sleepy under the blanketed drag of past decisions, and spent more time second guessing themselves than any child ever should have had to.

As the years passed, each journal grew a little longer, a little more neatly-written and precise. Pages were stuffed to the margins with notes, with afterthoughts ( and afterthoughts for those afterthoughts ), doodles grew a little more artistic, a little easier on the eyes even if they became less direct and more ... impressionist. Every so often a page or two grew a little too chaotic, a little too unsettling. Those entries usually wound up torn from the book and set aside in a shoebox full of nightmares and things that Frisk hated to think had ever crawled about in their own head.

 _Unfortunately, you're stuck with them._

Stuck with what, who? Little flickers of thought slipped past their conscious mind in their own tone of voice and often didn't make sense, or bring any kind of resolution with them. Accepting the intrusive thoughts as part of whatever it was that made humans different from monsters, Frisk usually went from day to day without giving them any real study. This was perhaps in spite of the fact that it went against their better judgement.

Regardless, anyone who could help was too busy with their own problems. Frisk's very manageable ( or at least what they considered to be manageable ) head-troubles weren't much in comparison to the reality of being stuck in the Underground for another decade longer than they'd perhaps all anticipated. While some of the monsters had been alarmingly oblivious to the human's presence when they were a child, others had noticed and understood what they perceived to be the very likely and plausible implications.

A seventh human, a seventh soul, freedom.

There was no real means to explain the disappointment that rang out amongst Monster-Kind at Asgore's death. Less so the profound hopelessness that came from the disappearance of six souls that took who knew how long to gather. Frisk got the impression that it had spanned many more years than they had lived, possibly more than a decade.

Empathy made it easy for Frisk to handle the accusatory glances, the distrust. It was the occasional attempt for their soul that made things difficult. Three separate occasions, until Toriel found it necessary to make an example of the final perpetrator, holding them for a year's time and decreeing far stricter punishments for any future attempts.

That had more or less done away with the idea of taking Frisk's soul to individually cross the barrier for more souls.

Not before significant damage had been done.

Frisk nonetheless maintained a sense of understanding, even as they wished somehow that the more vengeful and distrusting monsters had a clue of what the human had endured.

None of it was worth crossing the barrier for. Asgore's life, Frisk's life. At least, that's what Toriel had concluded. She had simply been too late to keep the former from happening.

She'd found them covered from head to toe in a Boss Monster's worth of dust, standing before the barrier with a shell-shocked expression, singes on their clothing and hair. They watched the king's soul shudder and Toriel couldn't fathom why the child hesitated to grasp it for themselves. Didn't they want so desperately to return home?

To Toriel, everything had gone white and little after that could be recalled. She had later described it as 'watching with rapt attention before spacing out for what must have been quite a long time'. She jarred awake again and realized Asgore's soul was gone and the fallen human child was rabidly fleeing from the barrier, screams broken by the need to sob for breath.

There really wasn't any other way to put it. After Flowey's onslaught, the thought of resetting was too much to handle. They couldn't chance it all over again. Never again.

 _Never again._

* * *

 _"Heat can be an energy source. Barring that, the waterfalls could be a second option."_

 _Asgore sorted through the blueprints that had been passed to him, large, fuzzy hands almost dwarfing the papers in comparison to the set of delicate, white, bone-like hands that he had taken them from. "It would be an option of lesser magnitude, but if the lava winds up being a hurdle you can't work around, Doctor, we can figure out a way to make the water work instead."_

 _"The geothermal energy from the sea would be a thousand times greater than anything we could hope to build out of the waterfalls, frankly. Water-based power is child's play. A temporary solution, if that. It will take a great deal of time and the effort of all Monsters, great and small, particularly those heat-inclined, but the rest will have to pull their weight gathering materials."_

 _Asgore nodded, rolling the blueprints back up into a set of tight scrolls before handing them back. The rather tall fellow beside the king still didn't quite match the Boss Monster's height, but looked as though he could reach up with a long, lanky arm and touch the ceiling of the wooden structure they stood in. A few lanterns kept the walls lit, a chalkboard full of scribblings nearby. The 'doctor' seemed to pause a moment in his otherwise animated tones, briefly setting a hand to his head. With a white paw, Asgore steadied the fellow by the shoulder of his white labcoat. A badge dangled from its lapel._

 _"Are you alright, Doctor?"_

 _"Ah, yes sire. An odd sensation overcame me, but it is passing." Regardless, with shifting white pupils surrounded by black sclera, the Doctor gave the room a glance about._

 _""Would you like to sit down? I can bring you some - t̴̛̕͢e̶̷̴ a͢ - - -_

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 _5_

 _5._

 _5... this is five._

 _You should wake up._

 _You should reset._

 _You should save them._

 _You should save him._


End file.
